What kind of an impertinence does it take to get involved with songs these days (or yet again?)? And, under which conditions can these days (or yet again?) the «band» principle work, when new constellations spit out round and round new forms of aesthetics? The key word is probably refraction: Carrying on in knowledge of the fragile stability of one's own creations…

The very name of the band «Aber das Leben lebt» (But Life Is Alive) sounds like a refractory «for all that». In spite of the pop-musical crisis of the word they sing love songs, in spite of the superiority of electronic music they play music with guitar, bass and organs; and in spite of the prevailing instrumental styles, one relies on the humanly voice. But, as «Aber das Leben lebt» is not a naive pile, one can hear all the differences to the announced commitments of presence in their music itself.

Those who name such a thing «The Melancholy of the Inopportune» are surely not wrong. The American calls it «weltschmerz» and thinks of Will Oldham (Palace, Palace Brothers, etc.) or Red Red Meat. The British steals from the French, says «decadence» and means the Tindersticks. In Austria, this state of suspense between sentimentality and being defiant of the future is now called «Aber das Leben lebt». And when one, over and above that, knows that it is not the case that some old men idle around with their world-weariness, but that three young lads at their 20's act in a way as if they were thrown too old into a too young world, then one actually feels groovy and wistful at heart. Great, sad ballad-art. Broken, of course.

Tracks

01 I know who I am - I don't know who I am, I know who you are - I don't know who you are
02 neither poetry, nor elegance
03 songs of the suicide man number 10
04 each thought05 kjorkesgharrd
06 jamnig
07 the blues of losing08 die Molle
09 das Wollponcho-Girl
10 wished love
11 wollponcho
12 this song offends everybody who really suffers